


Smile

by kiwi___bot



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Blood and Gore, Death, Grinding, M/M, Multi, Oral Sex, Past Abuse, Praise Kink, Size Difference, Size Kink, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-05
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-18 23:42:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29865864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiwi___bot/pseuds/kiwi___bot
Summary: Summary: Rarely did he have any reason to smile. It would be nice if there was more things that made him happy.
Relationships: Ghost/Guardian (Destiny), Glint/The Crow (Destiny), Glint/Uldren Sov, Guardian/The Crow (Destiny), Guardian/Uldren Sov, Osiris/Saint-14 (Destiny), The Crow/Osiris/Saint-14 (Destiny)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 23





	Smile

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by all the Saint/Crow/Osiris stuff I keep seeing on AO3! I love all you writers, thanks for converting me to this ship!

Crow didn’t smile often.

It was one of the first things Glint noticed about him. He was so nervous, so afraid when he was first risen. Grasping at his shroud and looking around like he was lost. But the very first day he awoke, Crow had laid his eyes upon Glint.

And without even knowing who this little paracausal being was, Crow had smiled at him, relief flooding his frame, like all was right in the world. And he smiled and smiled at Glint as he left the Dreaming City, and he smiled as they walked and Crow listened to Glint’s earnest ramblings about everything he had seen in order to find Crow.

He smiled until they met the first Guardian along the way.

And when Glint had brought Crow back, healing the slit throat and gouged out eyes, Crow no longer smiled.

Those expressions that Glint believed could light up the entire galaxy vanished overnight, and became so rare, Glint did not remember them. No, instead, Crow’s face became pinched with worry and fear, and when he came under Baron Spider’s ownership, he learned to hide it with a blank slate that ached Glint to his very core.

The smile was a lost flicker of a candle, beneath the world’s downpour. So when that candle shone a little brighter in the night-- and when Crow would smile only at Glint, under the covers of the bed, holding him close to his face, Glint felt alright. Like he wouldn’t be lost, and Crow would turn out alright. A silly hope, given their circumstances, but nonetheless; Glint couldn’t be afraid when Crow would kiss him and promise him a better life.

What would a better life be if Crow was free? Would he be able to smile again?

Ghosts do not need to sleep, but he always lays there in content silence. Listening to the creaking pipes and the chittering guards, and the soft draw of Crow’s sleeping breath. He nuzzles as close as he can to his awoken lover’s lips, and feels more at peace than he ever felt before.

For Crow, smiling is another sign of weakness. It’s a way for people to crawl inside his head, behind his eyes and taint his mind with darkness, tearing away everything he loves. If he let anyone in, they would drive him mad with their own twisted ambitions.

To the world, he was scorned; for a life he couldn’t remember.

And so Crow didn’t like to smile. He saved them for gentle moments between his first love and himself: Glint once told him he was beautiful, especially when he smiled. And all Crow could do in that moment was just smile-- even when blood spilled from his mouth and Glint watched him die from the fatal wound in his chest, gored open from the last Guardian who made the mistake of removing Crow’s mask.

Glint cried openly for the first time after that. The Ghost burrowed his shell into the crook of Crow’s neck once they were safely tucked away, hidden in the darkness of their tiny room, and even though Ghosts could not cry physically, Crow could feel how the Light inside Glint seemed to dampen as he shook.

_“I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you... I’m so sorry, Crow.”_  


_And nothing hurt more than hearing Glint’s voice quiver in sorrow. It felt like Crow had failed his one purpose in life-- keeping his beloved safe and happy. And the tears are spilling before Crow can register it. All he can do is cup his trembling hands around Glint and whisper softly to him._

_“It’s okay... you’re okay....” Crow brushes a soft kiss against one of Glint’s fins, and takes a shuddering breath. He needs to be stronger than this. For Glint. Always for Glint. But when that glowing optic looks up, so full of love and adoration and **fear** for his Guardian, Crow knows he is weak. But Glint would never look down on him for it.  
_

_Crow shifts so they’re lain back on a pile of old rags-- their makeshift pillow-- and he brushes his thumb over Glint’s shell; each divot and scratch something that he’s memorized. Even now, he’s learned to be careful over where the shell bulges out unnaturally: a mark of their imprisonment._

_Swallowing down the wave of nausea that hits him from the ugly reminder, he instead brings Glint back in for another kiss, not missing how those shaking fins steady, and how the Ghost takes a small sigh, like he truly believes Crow._

_That maybe, they would be okay._

_And Crow makes sure to kiss him again, and again, and holds Glint a little tighter. His fingers gently prod under the shell, to stroke Glint’s core in a way that makes each sigh shake, and his optic flicker off as a soft moan escapes the Ghost._

_The pleasure loops back into Crow through their connection, but tonight isn’t about him. It’s about Glint. So he kisses him again, and his fingers find the dips and spots that make his lover tremble more, and a full moan escapes, as Glint whimpers, “Crow--”_

_And Crow shushes him delicately, and he presses Glint down to the pillow and kisses him again. And again._

_And Glint’s favorite part of the night isn’t when Crow makes him orgasm twice or thrice, or when Crow pins him with one hand and uses the other to dance heat along his shell in a way that makes both of them shiver._

_It’s when Crow smiles at him, like he’s the most perfect thing in the world._

Those smiles were reserved just for his Little Light; his beacon in the Dark. And he knew if he kept them under lock and key forever, there would be more sunrises where he can share them with Glint.

The first time he smiled for anyone else, it was on accident.

Another Lightbearer, a real _Guardian._ They’re about the same risen age as he, and they don’t know what Crow means when he explains he must have done something awful in his past life.

They’re a _Kinderguardian_ someone once mentioned, and they laugh at the idea.

_“I guess you could say that,” Hyacinth-1 hums, in their whisper-soft voice. Delicate like snow crystals. Crow liked that. Two many Guardians that the Baron Spider forced him to help were loud. So very loud. But Cinth was silent compared to them._  


_“So.... you really don’t... know what I must have done?” Crow asked cautiously, his hands careful as he cleans up their lure. Cinth pauses, tilting their head, looking him over once. Then twice._

_“I mean, your mask makes it harder to tell,” Cinth admits, standing from their folded position and appearing by Crow’s side in moments. “If you took it off....” Their hand reaches up, and Crow flinches horribly, which he instantly regrets.  
_

_Someone once told him Exos were incapable of emoting, but Cinth’s face fell instantly, and they withdrew their hand like they’ve been burned. But before Crow can apologize for his transgressions, they’re bowing their head, and their voice is so very soft._

_“I’m sorry-- I didn’t mean to--”  
_

_“It’s fine.” Crow snaps it harsher than he meant to, and he regrets it, watching the Guardian retreat a step, flinching at his words, the way he flinched at their hand. Crow takes a small moment to calm his nerves.  
_

_They’re young. Like he is. They don’t-- know. Glint perks up from his small spot on the desk, and his optic is trained on Crow, like he’s ready to do-- something. But Crow merely takes another breath, like he’s been learning, and he moves his hands to where his helmet locked onto his armor._

_A couple clicks, and he’s removed it, shaking out the hair sticking to his cheeks and sighing softly. He’s slow, setting the helmet on the desk, and turning his gaze on the Guardian, who’s.... not killed him yet._

_He expects hatred, sorrow, anything in their gaze that hints he is lesser. Anything that confirms what the Baron Spider always says-- that he’s **worthless**. “Wh-what do I look like to you?” Crow manages to say, his voice shaking just barely. He’s prepared to take it-- whatever revenge they wanted on his past life, he could take it._

_But instead, Cinth smiles, and when they speak, it’s like the first snowfall of winter. Pure, gentle, and peaceful. “You look like you. Crow.” And the way they say his name-- the way it belongs there, on their tongue, like it’s home-- it makes Crow smile for the first time in a long time._

The Lightbearer knows he’s damaged.

He sees it in how gentle Glint is to him, and how his Ghost never raises his voice or speaks with anger. He sees it in how the Eliksni he’s close to learn to not pat his back without asking, or how they don’t ask if he wants food, they just give.

He sees it in the way Spider laughs when Cinth requests Crow as their prize. But he sees hope in how they stand their ground. The ice creeping up their arms and legs, the way the temperature drops when they speak to Spider next.

_“You said **anything** in the room. I want **him.** ”_  


Time heals wounds, he’s learned, and he knows it will be easier to heal now that Baron Spider couldn’t touch Glint anymore.

Crow migrates slowly to life outside the Reef. And in turn, life inside the Tower, and the Last City. Osiris never ceases to be his mentor, and when they first arrive, Crow is surprised that the elder Warlock puts one firm hand on Crow’s shoulder at the end of the night, and steers him to a home deep within the Tower’s confines.

_“You will be staying here.” Osiris states, his tone not leaving an inch for arguing. “And you and I will be continuing work on deciphering Hive artifacts, between my personal work.”_  


_“I-I-I don’t want to be a bother--” Crow manages to mumble, his eyes refusing to take in the room. It’s not terribly large, but better than anything he’s ever had. It has a real bed, a real desk, a real shelf, a real lamp-- It’s all too much. “Cinth-- H-Hyacinth said I could--”  
_

_“A conflict of interest,” Osiris states, pushing Crow further into the room. “You will never get anything done if you’re always in their lap.”  
_

_“That’s not what I--”  
_

_“The bathroom’s attached through that door, and there’s a change of clothes in the dresser.”  
_

_“Osiris, this is--”  
_

_“Breakfast is served at 8 o’clock sharp. Don’t be late, or you will not eat.” And Osiris closes the door behind him before Crow can argue further. And that night, he sleeps in a real bed, in real pajamas, after a nice hot shower. And he smiles again, without realizing, as he falls asleep, hands curled around Glint, who rather likes Osiris’s shampoo._

Crow comes to understand that this is simply an attached unit to where _Osiris_ himself resides. At least, would reside, if he were ever home. The Warlock might be held back to the Tower due to the loss of his Ghost, but if he’s not on Crow’s ass about Hive artifacts, he’s out all hours of every day.

No, the young Guardian learns quickly that his main companions in this house are Glint. And Saint-14.

It’s not entirely a terrible surprise. What, coming out the very next morning to a home-cooked breakfast by the legendary Titan, who greets Crow like he’s meant to be there. When he’s being encouraged to have seconds after shyly poking at his first half, Crow wonders what Gods did he please to deserve this.

Crow is still damaged.

Saint-14 learns it early on. Crow flinches when he yells excitedly, and flinches from friendly touches. So Saint learns to keep his voice more level, and he learns to ask before he touches, and he learns that Crow isn’t fond of certain textures and he avoids or replaces them when needed. And when Crow is working, Saint learns to tap the desk when he sets the tea down so that the Hunter may actually know he has a hot drink waiting.

Saint finds Crow a delight. When Crow isn’t working, he’s not got much of a life at all, and if Cinth isn’t pulling him out of the house or visiting, Saint is more than happy to spend time with him. Crow is very good at checkers, but terrible with chess. Crow covers his ears at the loudest noises in movies, but has the smallest smile when they watch feel-good movies.

Crow is very strange, and Saint enjoys it.

Crow knows he’s very strange, and wonders if Osiris will throw him out to the dogs one day.

Of course, he knows his relationship to Osiris is very professional. He works with him-- _not under him, and not for him, Osiris told him very firmly. “We are equals.” He had said, sharp and leaving no room for disagreements._ \--and Crow is very grateful for this... excessive hospitality. But he’s sure Osiris sees him as nothing more than this bumbling idiotic Hunter.

Which is why it’s very surprising the next time he sees him. It’s a movie night, and Osiris is home for once, dressed down in a way that Crow will never get used to. Saint had selected a gushy romance movie that Crow enjoyed immensely, and the Titan had no qualms about seeing it again for the 27th time.

Osiris, of course, complains about the tacky story, and points out flaws in everything, but Saint had once explained that’s just Osiris’s way of avoiding admittance that he _likes_ something, so Crow doesn’t mind.

And when the credits roll, and Crow is tapping his nails against his mug with his shy smile, Saint leans back and shares a glance with Osiris. They know each other well, and often never need to verbalize their thoughts, always on the same page. Crow likes that. He knows how it feels, to have someone complete you in that way.

So it takes him completely off guard at their next statement.

“Osiris and I would like to have sex with you.” Saint states matter-of-factly. Crow is thankful he’s not taking a sip of his cocoa, and that it’s nestled securely on his lap.  


“E-excuse me?” Crow squeaks, and Osiris lets out this annoyed sigh. For a moment, Crow worries that’s the wrong answer, but the Warlock gives Saint a light smack on the shoulder and hisses.  


“What a way to ask him, Saint,” Osiris growls, and he sits up straight, one hand resting on his temple. “What Saint means to say-- is that we want to proposition you--”  


“Sexually!” Saint helpfully interjects.  


“--and that we’re extending an invitation to you for you to accept or deny.” Osiris finishes, sitting back and folding on leg over his knee. He looks older, dressed in his turtleneck and pajama bottoms, and Crow cannot deny that... he is attractive. As is Saint. But the pair of them together is quite intimidating. Crow finds himself lost for words.  


Saint nervously rubs the back of his neck, resting one hand on Osiris’s knee. “Now now, there is no need to be nervous! You can say no, my friend, and we can watch another of those silly love movies! I can find that one about the woman with the bird--”

“N-no, no--!” And Crow realizes quickly he should chosen a different word to start with, because they both back off, to give him space. Crow waves his hands, as he stumbles over his words. “I-- I didn’t mean-- It’s just a lot to take in,” he admits, moving his mug carefully to the coffee table. He sits back, taking a deep breath to steady his nerves.  


After a moment, he begins again. “Why m--”

“Simple enough!” Saint clasps his hands together and glances to Osiris. “We both find you adorable.”  


“What Saint means to say is that you are attractive, and we would enjoy a mutually beneficial sexual encounter,” Osiris huffs, examining a stray thread on his sleeve. Saint visibly deflates, sitting back with a grumble.  


Crow can’t help but smile, and he notices how they both seems to zero in on that, their eyes flickering quickly to his face. That only makes him laugh nervously, covering his face and smiling wider. They all fall into a comfortable silence before they speak next.

“You have a beautiful smile, Crow.” Saint hums, and he takes a small chance when he reaches out to capture the younger man’s chin in his hand. Crow doesn’t flinch or duck away, but his cheeks darken in a flush, and Saint brings Crow closer to his face, so that he may stare at his soft lips. “Very beautiful. Like the sunrise on Mercury.”

“Oh Saint, don’t start with that--” Osiris sits up, to swat at Saint, but Crow makes a bold move and he ducks in, eyes screwing shut as he presses against Saint in a nervous kiss. Both the older Guardians fall silent, and Saint takes a long pause before he reciprocates. His strong hands slip down to settle one on top of Crow’s neatly folded hands, and the other moves to rest on the awoken’s cheek, gently petting his face as he deepens the kiss.  


Crow shivers slightly, his lips parting open. A cool, silicone tongue presses into his mouth, and Crow accepts it eagerly. He feels heat crawl up his spin, and his heart is pounding in his chest when Saint parts after a short moment, his optics alight and smiling gently at Crow.

After a long moment of silence, it is Osiris who breaks it this time.

“Do you accept our proposal?” He hums, cocking his head to one side, and Crow can’t help it. He laughs, at how silly and professional it sounds, and he ducks his head down, covering his face again. Saint smiles at that joyous sound, and his own laughter breaks free, booming and filling the room with this echoing comfort.  


Crow does accept it.

And Saint and Osiris work as a unit, as the three retreating to the larger bedroom that houses the couple. Crow’s ritual of undressing is sacred to himself, and for the first time, he allows others besides Glint and Cinth in.

Osiris is laid back on the bed, sprawled out like a monarch, with Saint sitting on the edge besides him. And both of their eyes on locked on Crow as he strips down, shaking slightly. Shy, so very shy, and nervous. Despite how much he tells himself that he’s safe here, he’s spent so many years being told otherwise.

When the last piece of clothing drops to the floor, Saint lets out a soft sigh, like he’s seeing the sun for the first time again. And his low voice rumbles, “So beautiful.” Crow shudders at that, and he smiles again, some of that fear beginning to melt.

Saint beckons for him to approach, and Crow does, slipping close as he settles himself in the Titan’s lap. Those powerful hands that could hurt him, snapping him into bits and pieces-- they rest gently on Crow’s sides, sliding down as Saint mumbles, “You are a treat, my friend.”

There’s no denying how Crow’s cock twitches in interest, already half-hard against his thighs, and the Hunter shivers, looking away. But Saint is quick to catch his chin, redirecting his gaze to those glowing optics, as he mumbles, “Look at me, Crow. You are very, **very** pretty, yes?”

“I’m sure he knows that,” Osiris interjects, still dressed and still looking very relaxed and calm, like he’s simply observing another Hive artifact, and not his partner groping at Crow’s rear. That makes the younger Guardian yelp in surprise, hands flailing as he tries to decide where would be the best place to put them without bothering Saint.  


The Titan decides for him, taking both of Crow’s hands and resting them on his shoulders. “Relax, my friend. You are very safe here.” Saint’s voice is a low rumble that sends goosebumps along the Hunter’s skin, and Crow digs his fingers into Saint’s sweater, nodding slowly.

Saint’s plates shifts into a smile, and he leans forward, capturing Crow in another kiss. A soft noise escapes the smaller male, and his eyes flutter shut, tightening his arms around Saint’s neck. There’s still that anxiety that keeps burning inside his chest, tightly wound like something’s about to snap. But when Saint tilts his head to one side, and slips his tongue back between Crow’s lips, some of that begins to fade.

Another moan escapes the lightbearer, and Crow rolls his hips slowly, his cock rubbing against the fabric of Saint’s shirt; smearing a small stain of pre. He would apologize if Saint didn’t press his silicone tongue deeper into Crow’s mouth. Crow grunts, his hips slowly increasing the pace, and he has to pull away after another moment to breathe; panting, drool slowly dripping down his chin.

He already feels messy and disgustingly needy, and he’s sure he would feel ashamed if it weren’t for how Saint stares with lidded optics, his powerful hands petting over Crow’s hips. The younger male shifts, and becomes acutely away of the bulge in Saint’s trousers; his cock pressing insistently against Crow’s rear. Biting his lip, he grinds down against it, his cock jerking at how _massive_ it felt. He couldn’t imagine it fitting inside him, but he felt like he was gonna go crazy unless it did.

“Saint....” Crow begins, but the Titan reads his mind, lifting Crow like a ragdoll and laying him back on the bed. He stands, shrugging out of his clothes quickly. And in the meantime, Osiris is next to take Crow’s attention-- his slender hands slide down Crow’s chest, thumbs brushing his nipples and smirking when the Hunter gasps, cock jerking against his stomach. “O-Osiris--”

“You didn’t think I’d let Saint have all the fun?” The Warlock hums, shifting himself so he was besides Crow. He leans his head down, brushing soft kisses along the other’s chest and belly. Crow props himself up on his arms so he can watch, sucking in a sharp breath when Osiris takes ahold of his cock with a firm hand.  


He starts with soft kisses along the length of it, until he reaches the head. His tongue peaks out, swiping once over the head, smirking when Crow tenses and whimpers. Osiris doesn’t stop there; he pops the tip into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the crown and suckling lightly, dark eyes locked with Crow’s. The Hunter nearly falls back, yelping, but Saint is there, propping a couple pillows under him, brushing his hair from his eyes, and kissing his cheek.

“Isn’t he beautiful down there?” Saint rumbles, as Crow can only pant and stare at the sight. Osiris is certainly skilled at this: he swallows down a couple more inches with ease, slowly beginning to bob his head, stroking the rest with his hand. The other gently drags his nails over Crow’s thighs, making the poor boy shudder and squeak.  


“Such a good pair you both are,” Saint hums, capturing Crow in a quick kiss before he moves his position. Settling between his legs, naked and grasping a bottle of lubricant in one hand. He coats his fingers in the liquid, and Crow parts his legs before Saint can even push them apart, gasping as Osiris takes the rest of his cock into his mouth.  


“Ahh-hah--” Crow groans, head falling forward as he whimpers again. “Oh-- Osiris--” Saint hums in amusement, prodding two slicked fingers between the other’s legs, circling them around his entrance. He can’t help but tense up at them, gasping lightly as his hips cant upwards into Osiris’s mouth. He takes it easily, jaw falling slack as he bounces his mouth onto Crow’s cock.  


“Relax, little bird,” Saint rumbles again, and Crow does at his command, his whole frame shaking minutely, unable to still with Osiris still working his cock. But it’s enough for Saint to begin pressing one finger inside of him, his smile never faltering. Crow gasps weakly, his hole fluttering around the thick appendage. It’s far thicker than Cinth’s fingers were when they stretched him open before, and it’s been a good second since they last fucked him.  


Still, it feels nice, especially as Saint takes his time, slowly working it deeper inside of Crow. His fingers are generously lubricated, and he whispers in a low voice, “Such a good boy, you’re taking this well.”

“W-well you kno-ow--!” Crow groans when Osiris pulls back to the head, tongue teasing the sensitive understand with a low groan of his own, almost inaudible. Crow swallows thickly before he continues, mind growing fuzzy as Saint pushes the finger deeper. “Th-this isn’t the first time I’ve e-ever been-- y’know?”  


“Fingered?” Saint asks earnestly.  


“Y-yes,” Crow mumbles, flushing darkly. “Y-you don’t have to be so gentle--”  


“Well, I prefer to be,” Saint hums, and he curls his finger, unable to hide his smirk when Crow jerks again and actually full-on yelps this time, body shaking at the jolt of pleasure. Saint keeps his attention there, his single finger working over Crow’s prostate as he keeps an eye on his face. Each of the younger Guardian’s expressions are as beautiful as the last, and Saint wants to be able to see all of them.  


Osiris meanwhile has shifted to dragging his tongue along the length again, stroking quicker and quite enjoying how Crow seems to be overwhelmed already. The poor Hunter has his head lolling to one side, moaning and shaking. Especially when Saint has now begun to work a second finger inside of Crow. He can tell by how Crow’s cock throbs insistently in his hand that he’s getting closer to the edge of bliss.

So he pulls back with one final kiss, much to the poor boy’s disappointment. Crow whines, one hand reaching out to Osiris, but as close as he seems to be, he still has that sense to hesitate-- like he’s worried that touching the Warlock would be punished. Osiris frowns faintly, but he is quickly to move closer, tangling one hand into Crow’s messy black locks and yank his head back, kissing him deeply. 

Crow moans openly, tasting himself on Osiris’ tongue; it’s fair more intoxicating than he thought, and it only makes him clench around Saint’s two fingers, whimpering. The Titan continues to work him open, scissoring his fluttering hole as he hums, “You’re so beautiful, you know that?”

“I’m sure he’s aware, Saint,” Osiris groans when he pulls from the kiss, shooting Saint an annoyed look. Crow meanwhile looks dazed, his lips swollen from how intensely Osiris kisses him, his cock flushed dark and swollen. Truly a sight, the pair of them.  


Saint’s hit by this intense wave of emotions, and he has to laugh to keep it all from overwhelming him, curling his fingers again just to watch how Crow jerks, eyes rolling back slightly. He’s the picturesque version of lewd, and Saint is almost impatient with the need to fuck him proper. But he knows the poor Hunter hurts enough as it is-- he shouldn’t add aching after sex to the miles-long list.

Osiris decided apparently that he was bored with Saint, because he’s gone back to kissing Crow, forcing the other’s mouth open so he can plunge his tongue inside, growling softly when Crow is quick to obey. 

“Such a pair....” Saint hums, shaking his head, a third finger working its way inside the Hunter. And he watches with this pleased smile as Osiris keeps Crow’s mouth occupied, at some point switching it up to shoving his fingers inside the other’s mouth. And Crow eagerly sucks on them, swirling his tongue around them like it were a cock he were servicing.   


The sight is certainly something to behold, and Saint is curious to see how Crow would look with an actual cock inside those pretty lips. But he tucks away that thought for another day, as he spreads the four fingers inside Crow one more time; just to watch how he shakes and whines, gagging slightly on Osiris’ fingers.

“That’s enough, love....” Saint purrs, and Osiris shoots him a small glare, but he takes the cue; removing his fingers from the younger Guardian’s mouth. Crow whimpers in confusion, especially when Saint withdraws his own fingers.  


“Wh-whaa--” Crow slurs out, and Saint thinks it’s positively adorable how drunk Crow is on lust already. He takes the lubricant to coat his own cock-- although it’s already oozed enough out of the head and sides to be perfectly slick on its own.   


“Don’t worry, little bird. We’re moving on to the best part, yes?” Saint smiles at Crow, one hand lightly stroking his own cock. Crow’s gaze drops down to his length, and if he wasn’t already drooling, he would be now, licking his lips and trying to shift his legs wider. Osiris shifts so he’s sitting behind Crow, pulling the smaller male into his lap and wrapping his arms around his waist.  


This new position would seem quite intimate and gentle if it weren’t for Osiris assaulting his neck; nipping and biting down, making Crow yelp and jerk in his grasp. The poor hunter is shaking and moaning, his cock jerking against his belly.

Saint lets out a soft sigh at the sight; the pair are such a lovely combination, and it takes his breath away to see them together like so. Osiris has one hand tangled now in Crow’s hair, tugging his head to the side to expose his next further, suckling at a pulse point. His other hand has rested on Crow’s chest, tugging and twisting at one of his nipples. Crow is on Cloud 9, moaning and whimpering softly, his legs falling open wider.

And Saint takes the initiative, one of his massive hands gripping at a soft thigh, and spreading Crow open wide as possible, watching the soft gape of his entrance flutter around nothing, eager for more.

So Saint indulges.

Pressing the head of his cock at Crow’s entrance, Saint waits a moment when the Hunter tenses, gasping out again. But Osiris twists Crow’s head back and kisses him so forcefully that the smaller male shudders, and Saint takes the opportunity to start pressing in, slow and steady, until his cock is sheathed as deep as possible.

Crow chokes out a low moan that ends in a gurgle, his eyes rolling back at the feeling of being so stuffed full of Saint’s cock. His slick, wet hole is tight, squishy walls fluttering around the massive length, eager for it all. And Saint exhales sharply at the feeling, one of his massive hands smoothing down the front of Crow’s belly, feeling at how his cock creates the faintest bulge in his stomach. The sight is enticing, and it makes his grip on the Hunter’s thigh tighten, exhaling sharply.

“By the Traveler.... you are such a delight, little bird....” Saint rumbles, watching how Crow flushes a dark color, panting openly when Osiris surrenders him so Saint can bring the little bird’s face towards his own. Drool drips down his jaw, his lips bruises and darkening marks littering along his chin and neck. Truly a ruined sight; Saint cannot be jealous of Osiris’ work, but he dearly wishes he could leave a couple of his own there. Ah, still. A sight.  


“Look at how well you take me.” Pulling back, his optics flicker down as he slowly drags his cock out, the stretched hole weakly spasming around it, almost in protest. Crow’s swollen lips form a perfect little “O” shape at the feeling, and he moans softly, hiccupping when Saint thrusts back inside his sloppy cunt. “Look at how well you take cock, little bird.”  


“Quite skilled, like you were made for the sole purpose of pleasing us,” Osiris mumbles, and neither of the pair miss how Crow seems to flinch at that. Saint quickly marks that as off-limits, and switches gears; pressing in deep once again, and brushing a kiss against Crow’s forehead as the other gasps, eyes fluttering shut.  


“Such a good boy you are,” Saint hums, and he groans along with Crow as he feels those walls clench around his cock. Slowly, but steadily, Saint begins a slow pace-- dragging his cock out, thrusting back in, making Crow whimper and arch his back. Osiris falls silent, switching his hands so Crow’s other nipple is given attention, and grasping his cock, squeezing the base.  


The way Crow mewls is like a song to them both, and Osiris nips more marks into the pale skin, as Saint catches his lips in a passionate kiss once more, never failing to cherish each sound their Hunter makes.

A steady rock of their bodies begins now-- Saint thrusting into the smaller Awoken, who bucks up against Osiris’ steady strokes, and back into each push of Saint. It’s beautiful and wonderful and Saint would spend all night tangled like this, locked in an ever-growing feedback of passion. But Crow is quickly growing impatient: evident by how his whines become more insistent, how his swollen cock is throbbing in the Warlock’s grasp, and how he rhythmically clenches around Saint’s cock, each time he’s pressed deep and brushing his prostate.

Saint would be cruel to deny him and draw this out further, as much as he’d like to.

Light dances along his fingertips when he next cups Crow’s chin, watching him shiver against the Void swirling in Saint’s hands. And he kisses him again, and again, and between his kisses, Osiris steals Crow’s lips to himself. Back and forth, Crow’s head twisting to both sets of lips, drunk on the passion they both give him. Solar energy spreads between the Hunter and Warlock together, so hot and strong that Saint feels light-headed. His own cock is aching, stuffed in such an impossibly tight hole, that each thrust is faster than the last, and increasing in the strength.

He imagines other nights, where he’s bouncing Crow on his lap like he’s an adorable fleshlight, or perhaps bent over a bed while Osiris uses his mouth. Or Osiris fucking Saint, while the Titan eats out the Hunter like his life depended on it. Each fantasy is more intense than the last, and Saint has to shake his head and clear his thoughts before he gets too worked up.

Crow is gasping and whimpering with each thrust, his whole body shivering as Osiris swirls his hand around the head of his cock, squeezing the base whenever he thinks Crow is teetering too close to the edge. They’re locked in an kiss right now, and Saint feels his heart flutter at the sight-- a beautiful Solar pair, desperate to taste each other, to feel each other closer.

Saint’s thrusts increase in pace, grunting lowly, and he shivers when Crow yelps out, his back arching again. He’s fucked out of his mind, his prostate assaulted by each thrust, making his whole frame jerk and tremble. “C-close--” He manages to choke out, when Osiris moves from his mouth to suck more hickies into his neck. “S-saint-- please--”

“You have been so very good, little bird.” Saint moves both of his hands to grip Crow’s hips, pounding deep into his perfect hole, dragging him down against his cock with each thrust. His immense strength makes it all the more easier to keep up the punishing pace, and Saint knows he’s doing it right when Crow sobs and hiccups, his hands flailing uncertainly. “So very good-- I want you to cum, cum for us, Crow.”  


“Cum for us, Crow,” Osiris echoes with a low growl, and Crow is gone.  


His whole body seizes up, the hands tangled into the sheets tearing them apart and scorching them with his Light. A strangled cry escapes him, that morphs into a sob, and Crow cums harder than he ever has in his life. His cock jerks in Osiris’ hand, heavy ropes painting his chest, and he clenches around that cock that’s fucking him so good, he can’t think, and his vision just goes white.

Saint fucks Crow through his orgasm, whispering soft praises against his face as he litters kisses along his skin, and when Crow sags against Osiris, Saint meets his own release; his thrusts become erratic and desperate, and he huffs and grunts, spilling his cum deep inside of Crow.

For a long moment, there is silence; just the heavy breathing of the three.

Saint untangles himself first; sitting back, and slowly pulling his cock free. He watches Crow’s sloppily fucked hole, spasming around nothing, cum leaking free from the soft gape of it, and he would most certainly be raring to go again if not for the fact that Crow seems to have passed out.

“You’ve done a number on him, Saint,” Osiris states blankly, scooting back so he could lay Crow against the pillows.  


“Do you think I hurt him?” Saint asks softly, worry tinging his voice.  


“Not at all. I’m sure he enjoyed it all.” Osiris brushes sweat off his brow, and stands to retrieve some washcloths. “We should clean up.”  


“But what about you, Osiri--”  


“I do not need a completion tonight, Saint,” Osiris reassures, and Saint knows him well enough to believe him. So he sits and waits until his lover returns with warm, damp washcloths, and he cleans himself off as Osiris carefully cleans Crow.  


It is when Saint has redressed, and Crow has had some clean pajamas slipped onto his body, that the Hunter awakens slowly. He yawns weakly, rubbing his eyes, and mumbling, “Saint? Osiris? D-did I....”

“Relax, little bird,” Saint hums, pushing him back when Crow attempts to sit up. He does not miss how Crow flushes darkly again. “You did so well, Crow. Did you enjoy it?”  


“Um.... yes, yes, I did.” Crow looks between them both-- Saint sitting by his side on the bed, and Osiris organizing a shelf across the room. “I’m sorry I passed--”  


“Nonsense, you were pushed past your limits,” Osiris hums dismissively, scrutinizing the way his books are arranged. “You will rest now, and sleep. You clearly need it.”  


Crow blushes, clearing his throat and attempting to sit up. “Then I’ll head to my room--”

“Now now, none of that, little bird.” Saint pushes him back again, a gentle nudge that makes something flutter in Crow’s stomach. “Come, cuddle. Aftercare is the most important part, yes?” And when Saint smiles at him, Crow can’t help but smile back.  


Rarely did he have any reason to smile. It would be nice if there was more things that made him happy. But here, locked between Saint’s large arms, nuzzled into Osiris’ back, with Glint tucked nice and safe against his neck--

He felt safe enough to smile, and he smiled until slumber took him. And he’s pretty sure he smiled in his sleep, too.

**Author's Note:**

> kiwi--dick is my tumblr


End file.
